AN AFTERNOON OFF
Jimmy Brennan was as good as his word and turned up at the garage
promptly at half-past one. After taking the car out on the street for a
little ways he ran it back, removed his coat and got down to business.
“Differential,” he said tersely as he seized a wrench.
A half-hour later the trouble was laid bare. A pinion had cast three of
its teeth, and these, small lumps of steel, had worked in between the
wheels and were raising what Jimmy termed “particular Cain.” He removed
the damaged pinion and fished out all the particles of broken teeth he
could find.
“You’ll have to have a new pinion,” he said finally, “but I guess you
can run on this for a while after I’ve filed it a bit. It may take a
week to get a new one, and I guess you don’t want to be laid up that
long.”
They assured him that they didn’t. “But,” asked Tom, “are you sure it
won’t do any harm to run with that thing busted like that?”
“Not as long as no more of the teeth break. If they do you’ll know it
because they’ll make a noise. There’ll be a noise there anyway, but it
won’t be much. You can run all right. I’ll take this down to the shop
and put it on the lathe. Might as well leave these things right here
until I get back,” he added, referring to the scattered parts that
littered the floor.
“When――when do you think you can do it, Jimmy?” Tom asked.
“Oh, I’ll get it fixed so you can run her to-morrow. It’ll take an hour
or two to get down to the shop, do the work and get back. You couldn’t
use the car to-day anyway, so I’ll leave it until evening. I do want to
see that game, fellows.”
Tom swallowed his disappointment and assented. “And I wish you’d attend
to ordering the new part,” he said. “I wouldn’t know how, I guess.”
“All right. I’ll get a letter off to-night. Hold on, though; hadn’t we
better telegraph for it? We might save a couple of days that way.”
The boys agreed that that would be wise and Jimmy dropped the broken
pinion into his pocket. “You fellows going to the game?” he asked.
“You’d better. That fellow O’Brien who is going to pitch for the mill
team is a wonder. He used to pitch for Waterbury.”
Tom hesitated, looking doubtfully at Willard. “I――I suppose we might
as well,” he said finally. “I wish this hadn’t happened on Saturday,
though. There’s always a lot of travel on Saturday.”
“Well, it can’t be helped, Tom,” comforted Willard. “We might as well
make the best of it. And I, for one, would like mighty well to see the
game. I guess a holiday won’t do us any harm, Tom.”
“N-no, but we’re losing a lot of money,” Tom mourned.
“Oh, never mind. Let’s forget it and see the game. Come on.”
It wasn’t so easy for Tom to forget it, however, and all the way out to
the field he was quiet and depressed. Willard and Jimmy Brennan talked
baseball with enthusiasm, Jimmy being a “fan” of the deepest dye. They
reached the entrance quite early and while Willard was searching for
a mislaid half-dollar near the ticket window some of the members of
the high school team passed. Among them was George Connors, a big,
good-looking, dark-complexioned chap of eighteen, who was Audelsville’s
catcher. Willard and Tom both spoke to George as he passed, but all
they received in return was a scowl, and Tom turned inquiringly to his
friend.
“What’s the matter with George Connors?” he asked. “He looked as though
he wanted to bite me.”
“Me, too,” answered Willard. “I guess he’s down on us on account of
his father. I suppose his dad’s been calling us names for interfering
with his business, Tom.”
“Oh, that’s it?” he nodded understandingly. “I didn’t think about that.
Yes, I dare say we’re in wrong with the whole Connors family, Will.” He
followed Willard and Jimmy Brennan through the gate and found a seat
with them on the left field bleachers. “I was thinking, coming out
here, Will,” he continued as he pulled his hat down over his eyes and
prepared for hot weather, “that we might do pretty well bringing folks
out to these games. We could make two or three trips without missing
any trains.”
“I don’t believe many of these folks would pay a quarter to ride out,”
Willard objected.
“We might take them both ways for a quarter,” answered Tom. “You see if
we’re out here we’ve got to go back anyway, and we might as well take
passengers. Suppose we try it the next time there’s a game?”
“All right. We won’t make much, though, I guess.”
“I’ll tell you how you might make some money,” observed Jimmy Brennan.
“There’s a big picnic two weeks from to-day at Wyman’s Grove. Why not
take folks out to that? It’s nearly two miles out there and you could
easily get a quarter each way.”
“We’d have to make at least two trips to make much,” objected Willard.
“Still――――”
“If we only took four people out and back we’d make two dollars,”
interrupted Tom. “And if we make two dollars often enough we’ll be
rich. Know anyone who’d like to go out there in the car, Jimmy?”
“Sure! I’ll go, for one. And if you say you’ll make the trip I’ll
tell the fellows about it. Lots of them would pay a quarter to ride
in an automobile. Where’ll you start from? Better make it down-town
somewhere, because there’ll be lots of folks going from the mills.”
“I’ll have the car at the corner of Connecticut Avenue and Oak Street,”
said Tom. “Then I can go right out Oak Street to Cross and on to Main
and save quite a distance. You tell folks I’ll be there, Jimmy. What
time is the picnic?”
“Oh, in the afternoon. Better get around about two, I guess.”
“I have to meet the 2:06 train, so I’ll say two-fifteen. How about
bringing them back? What time will they want to come home?”
“Won’t many of them start home until after supper,” said Jimmy. “Say
about seven.”
“That’s fine. I’ll meet the 6:05 and then go right out to the grove. It
oughtn’t to take more than fifteen minutes to get there, ought it?”
“It’s only two miles. You can do it in ten without any trouble. I dare
say you’ll be able to pick up three or four loads coming back. And
here’s another thing, fellows. Ever think of hiring out your car in the
evening or on Sundays?”
“Hiring it out?” repeated Willard. “How do you mean, Jimmy?”
“Why, taking folks out for rides. Advertise in the paper or put a sign
in the windows down-town saying you’ll rent the car for so much an
hour. I wouldn’t wonder if you’d catch some folks that way.”
“We might do it evenings,” agreed Tom doubtfully, “but I don’t believe
father would want me to do it on Sundays.”
“That so? Well, stick to week-days, then. I just suggested it. I don’t
know how it would work out. You might try it, though.”
“Much obliged,” said Tom. “We――we’ll think it over. How much ought we
to charge by the hour, Jimmy?”
“Oh, I don’t know. In the cities they get five dollars, or they used
to. You could charge two dollars, maybe, for a carful. That would leave
you about a dollar and seventy-five cents, allowing for gasoline and
wear on the car.”
“I think that’s a bully idea,” said Willard. “Tell you what, Tom; I’ll
just have to learn to run the thing. First thing we know we’ll be so
busy you won’t be able to do it all. Besides, supposing you got sick or
something! Then where’d we be?”
“I don’t see why you don’t learn to run it,” agreed Jimmy. “I guess Tom
could teach you all right. If he can’t I’ll do it. And any time you
want someone to run The Ark for you, Tom, you let me know. I dare say I
could get off for a day or so and do it.”
“Really? I’ll remember that,” said Tom gratefully. “It might be that
something would happen some time. They’re going to start the game. The
mill team has the field. Is that your friend there, Jimmy? The big,
tall fellow with red hair.”
“Yes, that’s Doyle. You watch him, fellows. He’s a wonder. Used to
pitch for Waterbury, Doyle did. Of course, he wasn’t a first-string
man, but he was pretty good. I saw him pitch five innings once against
New Haven and there wasn’t a hit made off him. If he hadn’t passed four
men there wouldn’t have been a score!”
“Well, if he passes four men to-day it will help a lot,” said Tom with
a laugh. “Why didn’t he stick to baseball, Jimmy?”
“Oh, he got married and had to earn money. So he went into the mill. He
hasn’t played ball for a couple of years, I guess, but I don’t suppose
he’s forgotten how.”
He hadn’t, and there wasn’t much to that game after four innings. Doyle
may have lost some of his cunning through lack of practice, but he
had sufficient skill left to keep high school guessing. In the second
inning, and again in the fourth, high school got men on bases, and in
the fourth tallied two runs, a lucky hit by Captain Madden sending in
a couple of runners. But that was all the scoring high school was able
to do. On the other hand, the mill team knocked Billy Younger out of
the box in the third, piling up five tallies. Billy had an off day for
once and was extremely unsteady. Chester Madden pulled him out and went
to the mound himself. Chester got a sound drubbing and when the ninth
inning was at last over the mill team had won by twelve runs to two.
Spider Wells and Jimmy Lippit walked back with Tom and Willard――Jimmy
Brennan had left them to hob nob with the redoubtable Doyle――and
explained the defeat satisfactorily. Spider, flourishing his scorebook,
proved, to his own satisfaction at least, that the game had been thrown
away by poor generalship. Jimmy scoffed.
“Poor generalship nothing! Why, we couldn’t hit that red-headed
professional, you chump! Nobody could! We all told Chester he had no
business letting them pitch a fellow like that against us! What do you
expect? Why, every fellow on their team was twenty years old or more.
And at that they only got eleven hits off us!”
Tom and Willard left Jimmy and Spider at the corner of Washington and
Linden Streets, still wrangling over the game, and went to Willard’s
house. There, on the front steps, with the assistance of several slices
of cake, they talked over Jimmy Brennan’s idea of renting the car
evenings. In the end they decided to try the scheme, and Willard got
a paper and pencil and between them they drew up an announcement to
be printed on cardboard and placed in the shop windows. When finally
corrected the legend ran as follows:
AUTOMOBILE FOR HIRE!
The Benton and Morris Transportation Company’s Five-Passenger
Touring Car, with experienced chauffeur, may be engaged for
pleasure rides any evening after seven o’clock. Terms, Two
Dollars an hour. Make up your parties! Apply to Thomas Benton,
37 Cross St.
“There,” said Willard, “that ought to fill the bill. We’ll get
Higginson to print about two dozen of these and we’ll put them in the
store windows. Bet you we’ll get a lot of bids!”
“Will the store-keepers let us put them in their windows, though?”
asked Tom. “I don’t see why they should.”
“Of course they will! Don’t you see all sorts of notices in the
windows? Dances and picnics and entertainments of all sorts. Sure,
they’ll let us put them in. I guess Higginson is closed by this time,
isn’t he?”
As it was almost six o’clock, and a Saturday besides, Tom thought he
was. “We’ll take it to him the first thing Monday morning. I hope Jimmy
gets the car fixed all right this evening.”
“We ought to have another car,” said Willard thoughtfully.
“Yes, we ought to have a flock of them; about thirty or forty, I guess.
You don’t know just where we’d get ’em, do you?”
“We might find another as cheap as The Ark if we looked around. You
can’t say she wasn’t a bargain.”
Tom bent and peered under the steps and then looked carefully about the
tiny front yard. “I’m looking around, Will, but I don’t see one,” he
announced gravely. “Funny you can never find a thing if you want it!”
Willard grinned. “Just the same, though,” he said stoutly, “I’ll bet
you we’ll have another some day.”
“If we do you’ll have to run it. I can’t attend to more than one at a
time.”
“We could hire someone, couldn’t we? Maybe Jimmy Brennan――――”
“Or Jerry Lippit,” laughed Tom. “How would he do?”
“Guess I’d better learn how myself. Will you teach me?”
“Sure. You know a lot about it already, don’t you?”
“A little. What’s the matter with getting out early Monday morning and
giving me a lesson?”
“All right. I guess it would be a pretty good thing if you could run
it, Will. Of course, you won’t be here next winter, but―――― Say, who’s
going to run The Ark when high school begins again? We’ve got to be
thinking about that pretty soon.”
“I know. Seems to me we’ve proved by this time, Tom, that the thing’s
going to be a success, eh?”
“Of course it is! And that’s why it won’t do to stop it just when we’ve
got it going well. I guess we’ll have to advertise for someone to come
here and run it, Will. How much do you suppose we’d have to pay him?”
“A couple of dollars a day, I guess. Say I wonder――――”
“What?”
“I wonder if we could get Jimmy Brennan, Tom!”
“Gee, if we could! I suppose, though, he makes a lot more at the
machine shop than we could afford to pay him.”
“I suppose so. Would you ask him?”
“Not yet. Let’s wait till we’ve been running a full month, Will,
and then see just how we stand. Are you keeping a strict account of
everything?”
“Of course I am!” replied Willard indignantly. “I’ve got every cent set
down.”
“That’s the ticket. Then at the end of the month we――we’ll strike a
balance and see where we stand. Then we’ll know how much we can afford
to offer Jimmy. I don’t believe he makes much more than twenty a week,
Will.”
“Neither do we――yet,” replied Willard dryly. “I guess we will, though.
Father was saying the other evening that there’s a heap more travel in
winter than there is in summer. So if we can make, say, twenty-five a
week now we ought to make more in the winter, Tom.”
“Sure. Well, I guess it’s almost supper time. Will you come over this
evening and see Jimmy fix the car?”
“Yes, I’ll be around. Why don’t you stay and have supper with us,
though?”
“Can’t; I’ve got some things to do. You come over. Say, maybe we can
sort of find out from Jimmy how much he’s getting now, eh? You――you
might kind of get him talking, you know, Will.”
“I like your cheek!” laughed Willard. “Why don’t you do it yourself?”
“Oh, you’re the diplomat of this firm,” answered Tom with a grin.